


The Trickster

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Yevon in the past, the people of Besaid are once again remembering the ancient stories of the island, and it is said the spirits who once lived among and protected their ancestors have once again awakened. Wakka and Lulu draw the attention of a trickster spirit whose mischief opens up a whole new avenue of communication for the couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trickster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sacred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacred/gifts).



Torchlight flickered around the main chamber of Besaid Temple, illuminating staid statues of High Summoners bedecked in wreaths of flowers and necklaces made of seashells, offerings made to Besaid’s spirits of old in thanks for their sacrifices. Ceremonial drums beat a jubilant cadence and flutes sang blessings for the happy couple locked in a kiss at the top of the stairs.

As they descended down the stairs, hand-in-hand, the crowd parted, showering the ducking, laughing couple with brightly colored seeds harvested from the lush jungle. “Throw yours, Vidina!” Wakka encouraged his son as he tossed his own. Vidina threw his with all his might, laughing and bouncing in his father’s arms as the small handful hit their target – the crown of flowers on the bride’s head.

“Why do we throw seeds at Auntie Yuna?” Vidina asked as Wakka drew his other arm around Lulu and joined the crowd flowing behind the newlyweds into the Besaid Village center. Drummers had taken up the rhythm from those who were drumming the wedding guests out of the temple, joined by rattles and singing in a language that had been long dead to Wakka’s ears.

“Because the ancient stories tell us a tiny spirit lives in each seed and helps it grow into a strong tree to bear fruit,” Wakka said. “When the seeds are thrown against a person, it knocks the spirit out and makes it cling to the person instead. So when a man and woman are married, we want as many spirits as possible to protect their marriage and help it grow tall and strong like the palm tree, and bear lots of fruit.”

Wakka emerged into the balmy night air and took in the sight below. There was an air of freedom on the island as Yuna danced with the many village children, and her new husband lounged back and drank the sweet fruit wine that the villagers had prepared for the wedding feast.

“Did people throw seeds at you and Mama when you got married?” Vidina asked, his big brown eyes glimmering like pyreflies in the light.

“No,” Lulu said. “Your Papa and I got married before people remembered the old stories.”

Vidina frowned and looked uneasy at that, glancing down at the seeds strewn along the temple steps. Before he could say anything further, however, Wakka put him down. “Go on and dance with your Auntie Yuna. Have fun!” He gave him a little push toward the stairs. “Go on!” Wakka shooed him when he turned around looking between his mother and father once more, before finally hopping down the stairs.

“You could have let me finish what I was going to say,” Lulu said, picking up her skirt so she could descend the stairs.

“Ah, Lu, Vidina doesn’t want to hear any of that Yevon crap tonight,” Wakka dismissed. “He’s too young for that stuff anyhow. He wouldn’t even understand the difference between Yevon and the Old Ways.”

“He understands wanting his parents to grow tall and strong like a palm tree, together,” Lulu said over her shoulder as she continued down the stairs.

“But—Aw, Lu,” Wakka sighed, jogging down to catch up with her. “You do too much talking to a kid and their head gets all confused, ya know?”

“I don’t think the problem is too much talking, Wakka,” Lulu said suddenly, turning and putting her hands on her hips. “I think the problem— _your_ problem—is you don’t do enough listening.” She walked away, leaving Wakka standing at the entrance to the village circle and feeling slightly irritated. Why’d she have to pick a time like this to bring something like that up again?

Wakka slunk over to grab a cup of fruit wine and sat down near the fire, where both children and adults were congregating. A tall form stood, silhouetted against the fire, and the drums silenced. The children stopped their dancing, quickly running to the fire as well, and Yuna joined her husband, leaning against him as both turned their gaze to the elder, who seemed the very embodiment of the tall palm tree protected by the seed spirits.

“We beseech the spirits today to protect the union that is today born, to protect it from all evil, both from the human world and the spirit world,” the elder said, holding up a handful of seeds. “Children of the earth are strong, and they are resourceful. They need not fear any harm that might befall them from man or nature. No, we ask the spirits for protection from that which we cannot see: from pride, from mistrust, from disunity. We ask protection from Kuralo, the Trickster, who finds joy in the tears of lovers turned enemies. He sits outside of family homes and hears all of the words that lay unsaid between a husband and wife from their hearts, and he will grind them together in his mortar and pestle and when they are asleep, he will pour the powder down their throats, poisoning them with those words. So a husband and wife must never leave bitter words unsaid, or Kuralo will use them against them.”

Wakka wandered over to grab another cup of wine, laughing at Vidina’s rapt expression as he listened to the elder. “Seems like they’re finding old stories like that from the archives in the caves every day, huh?” he asked his neighbor, who was leaning against the wine barrel and drinking directly from the cup, then immediately refilling it.  “They could probably come up with anything gand say they found it in a cave and tell it to the kids, and then the kids’ll be all messed up. Bah.” He gestured toward the fire, then caught sight of Lulu across the way. There was no mistaking the look of annoyance on her face.

“Hey, ah, want some company?” Wakka asked his companion at the wine barrel. He didn’t receive an answer, so with a shrug, he sank down to sit on the ground, within arm’s reach of the wine barrel. That would beat another lecture from Lulu about setting a bad example for Vidina any day. “Why is it you always gotta be the right one?” he muttered, slumping against the tent.

* * *

“Papa? Papa!”

“Hey, Tubby, wake up!”

A succession of sharp smacks to the face brought Wakka into consciousness enough to see Rikku crouched over him with Vidina standing next to her. “Wha—“ he slurred, Rikku and his son suddenly becoming blurry and faint.

“Are you two f-i-g-h-t-i-n-g again?” Rikku sighed,“Look at you! You’re on your back out here, and Lulu’s already gone home after nursing down a handful of banana beers.” She stood up and ruffled Vidina’s head. “Well, Auntie Rikku’s gonna take Vidina onto the Celsius to stay the night while his parents get their s-h-i-t straightened o-u-t.” She reached down and took Vidina’s hand. “C’mon, big guy. Wait til I show you what Brother’s Captain’s Chair looks like. Maybe we’ll even let you take the ship for a spin! Can’t do worse than he does…”

Wakka listened to the two blurs as they walked away, their voices sounding more like the babble of the ocean washing into a tide pool than any real words. The party was beginning to die down, and the heat of the fire didn’t quite reach to the tent where Wakka was lounging. “Lulu? Hey, Lu!” Wakka staggered up to his feet. His wife was nowhere to be found.

The nap actually had done Wakka some good, as he could walk in a straight line, and at least discern the path back to his house. He figured Lulu couldn’t have gone far—Yuna was hardly going to be up for a ladies’ night tonight. She had better things to do.

Wakka stopped suddenly in the village circle, a laugh bubbling up from his slightly queasy stomach. With Vidina gone with Rikku, that meant one thing he and Lulu never got: privacy. For Wakka, that also meant a good chance at something else he never got.

He found Lulu hunched over the sink basin in the corner, splashing water on her face. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, falling to her waist, and she was wearing nothing but a light sarong wrapped around her body.

“Hey, beautiful,” Wakka murmured, coming up behind Lulu to gently kiss her shoulder.

Lulu grunted a reply, shrugging when Wakka continued to kiss the pale slope. She shrugged again when he didn’t get the hint, drawing a sound of protest from Wakka.

“What? What’s wrong? Rikku’s got Vidina, and we’re alone for the first time in months! Don’t you think I deserve it?” Wakka wheedled.

Those were the wrong words to use. Lulu spun on Wakka, hair flagellating him, mouth open and ready to berate him with a similar slap to the face, but she stopped herself, biting her tongue as she always did. “No,” she finally said, shaking her head. “No. I’m tired.”

She walked over to pull their hammock down from the wall, hanging the double-wide hammock and climbing expertly into it, back to the middle – to where Wakka would be.

“Lu? Lulu? Aw, come on!” Wakka stormed over to the side of the bed and touched her arm, but Lulu shrugged him off. “You been drinking too, haven’t you? Is that why you’re being such a cold bitch now?”

Lulu sat up, dark eyes blazing by the dim light of the fading fire in the hut’s hearth. “You did not just say what I thought I heard.”

Wakka stammered, cursing inwardly. His damn loose tongue, tripping him up again when it came to Lulu. He was always saying the wrong thing with her, no matter whether it was regarding raising Vidina, or on Yuna’s choice of husband, or even their own relationship. She could be so warm and caring at times, but most of the time she just withdrew into silence. Wakka didn’t get it.

He did get one thing, however. He was going to be sleeping on the ground tonight. He looked at Lulu one more time, and saw her staring out the door, jaw clenched, eyes wide. It was obvious something was on her mind – something she wasn’t saying. Wakka knew better than to push any further, and he grabbed a blanket before flopping down on the rug to try and get some sleep.

* * *

Sunlight creeping through the cracks of the hut’s door peered into Wakka’s eyes, and he stirred awake, turning over to try to avoid it. As his body shifted over, he froze. Something was definitely not right. “Vidina?” Wakka asked, feeling his chest, as he swore he felt the weight of his son having crawled onto it to sleep like he had when he was a baby.

Except Vidina was no longer a baby. And he wasn’t home. And what Wakka felt on his chest was no child. He gave it a squeeze, then yelped when the bruising discomfort ricocheted through his body. “What the hell?” he choked, bolting awake and sitting up.  “Lulu! Lulu!” He ran over to the mirror that hung over the corner basin, nearly choking at what he saw.

A woman with long red hair and brown eyes stared back at him in sheer panic. She was shirtless, her large breasts with their brown nipples large and firm (although not as large as Lulu’s). Her waist was small, and her hips flared out enough to keep the brightly printed loose pants he’d worn to last night’s ceremony just up high enough to keep decent. She pulled the loose waist of the pants out, giving another strangled cry when she saw rough red pubic hair covering a sloping mound—no penis in sight.

“What the hell? What the hell is going on? Is this—is this a dream? Lulu!” Wakka ran back over to the hammock and shook Lulu awake, grunting with discomfort at the bounce of breasts from the running.

“What—who are you?” Lulu asked, frowning and rolling away, nearly falling out of the hammock. “What are you doing here?”

“Lulu, it’s me! It’s Wakka!” Wakka now realized the voice he was even hearing wasn’t the same—it was higher, and every exclamation that left the significantly poutier lips ended in a kind of squeak. “What happened to me?”

“What? Wakka?” Lulu frowned, rubbing her eyes. “How—how is it that you’re Wakka? You’re—“

“A girl? Yeah, you noticed too?” Wakka replied, still distraught. “How am I Wakka? Try how am I a girl? What did you do to me last night when you were pissed at me? Did you put a spell on me?”

“There’s no magic in Spira that can change a man to a woman!” Lulu defended herself. She looked around, then looked down at her hands, looking more distraught and upset than Wakka had ever seen her. “There’s no magic in Spira that can do that,” she repeated, as though she were trying to convince herself of that fact. She then looked away and whispered, “Kuralo.”

“What was that?” Wakka asked, stepping closer. Lulu looked up, her face almost in Wakka’s breasts, and gave a little cough. “You’ve got to put something else on. That’s distracting.” She rolled out of the hammock and found another sarong, bringing it over and trying it around Wakka’s chest as her’s was.

“I said Kuralo,” Lulu then repeated, looking into Wakka’s eyes for a moment, then away, chewing her lip. “How can I be sure you’re Wakka?” she asked.

“One of the Aurochs got sick the day before our wedding, and I promised you I’d play the Blitz game and be back in time for the wedding. I made it back in time… but I ended up giving half the winnings from that game to Brother so he’d fly me back to Besaid, ‘cause otherwise I’d have been late,” Wakka said, clearing his throat. That was a far cry from the story Wakka had given Lulu about the pot winnings having been smaller to fund stadium repairs.

Lulu’s jaw tightened, but she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “It has to be Kuralo. He heard his name last night.”

“You can’t tell me you really believe those old stories, Lu!” Wakka protested.

“You can’t tell me you don’t!” Lulu said, gesturing at Wakka’s breasts. “Look at you!” She sighed mournfully. “Look at you.”

“Well, we gotta do something about this,” Wakka said. “I can’t stay in this body. I can’t be your husband when I’m a girl. I can’t be Vidina’s dad when I’m a girl. I’m—I’m not a girl!” He sat down heavily on the hammock, running his hands over his legs, which to his disappointment were still hairy. He had no idea what Lulu did to make hers smooth.

Lulu appeared to be considering this, then walked over and ran a finger along Wakka’s shoulder, watching as goosebumps broke out. Wakka pulled away. “Hey, what’re you doing?” Wakka asked.

Lulu didn’t respond, didn’t answer Wakka’s question. Instead, she came to the side of the hammock, looking down at Wakka. “This is probably a good opportunity for you,” she mused, running her fingers through Wakka’s hair. “Maybe you can take this chance to learn something you didn’t know before.”

“Wha?” Wakka frowned, as Lulu climbed onto the hammock, body pressing against Wakka’s. “Wait, hold on!”

“You’re always wanting to play with my breasts, after all,” Lulu mused, tugging at the knot of Wakka’s sarong, drawing a small squeak of protest. “And you don’t understand why I’m not really excited about the idea of ten minutes of thrusting and you grunting on top of me, then rolling over to fall asleep. Maybe we can learn something today. Maybe you can learn something.”

“Lu,” Wakka gasped, as Lulu eased the pants from the now curvy hips and placed a light kiss against the smooth flesh of Wakka’s belly.

“Maybe we both can learn a little something,” Lulu then said with a smirk.

Wakka hoped the Trickster was listening for whatever he needed to hear, although all he would hear were yelps and squeaking pleas. However, it didn’t appear that Lulu was concerned if Kuralo ever showed himself in Besaid Village again.

 


End file.
